Home Fires – Chapter Twenty-Eight: Resolve
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Intro 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 Epilogue
Over the next few weeks, Antonius made contact with Sandrip Brandyn a handful of times. Antonius needed Sandrip to identify something to lure the Ork Warboss out. The false king ate up almost every ounce of goodwill he had with Gargatok Gitsmasha in order to find a target that the Warboss couldn’t pass up. Sandrip put forth ideas for taking the Capitol building, the spaceport, several large manufactorums, and even the most prominent cathedrals.
Gargatok Gitsmasha didn’t care about any of that.
It didn’t help that, ever since Gargatok’s ascension to primary Warboss, he had dozens of new toadies, lieutenants, and hangers-on all vying for his attention. Sandrip was gambling with his life; if any of these Orks took umbrage with his station, they wouldn’t hesitate to turn him into a pile of pulp and bone fragments. Indeed, Sandrip’s loyal minders got into one or two scuffles with parties that had competing visions for the Ork military advance.
Then, finally, Sandrip hit on the answer.
Antonius laughed so hard that he cried.
Sandrip had offended some sort of malevolent Ork psyker who had been with Gitsmasha since before the WAAAAGH came to Altea. During the standoff, Sandrip had been saved by the intervention of Gargatok Gitsmasha himself. It was then that Gitsmasha had made a shocking revelation:
The WAAAAAGH had come to Altea because of the Azure Flames.
Because of Zeraf Antonius and his fool idea to bring humanity to his company by bringing his company to humanity.
Because, as Gitsmasha had put it, “fightin’ beekies is da best.”
A small part of Antonius’ mind wished that, in all of his previous battles, he had been killed. Then he would not have had this happen. The people of Altea would have been unbothered by the Orks. His chapter would not have lost an entire company due to hubris. He fervently wished he had never been born. Had never ascended. Had never survived. That tiny splinter of his mind thought that, all things considered, he should take his own life rather than live with the shame.
But that would accomplish nothing.
Right now he had a responsibility to his former homeworld. He had to fight on. The part of him crippled by shame was crushed by sheer determination. He would not surrender. Not to despair. Not to the Orks.
Never give up.
That was the way of the Promethean Cult. The teachings of Vulkan forbade ever leaving a fight before it was finished, no matter the odds. Preserve life, even unto death. Shepherd the weak with your strength. Fight with honor, no matter your fate.
So, fightin’ beekies was the best, eh Gitsmasha?
Antonius would give him a fight.
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